The Alchem-mas Nightmare: An FMAB Christmas Parody
by Ganymede's Quill
Summary: Everyone gathers for Mustang's annual Christmas party, and a lot of excessive drinking ensues. Meanwhile, Kimblee reinvents himself with a hit children's movie (Frozen), and the homunculi plan to ditch their party with Father to crash Roy's shindig. Contains drunk antics and holiday nonsense. No feels, only laughs. Rated M: Many reasons/ ruined childhood. EveryoneXEveryone (Drunk)
1. Chapter 1: This is a Terrible Idea, Al

**Please Read First:** Merry Almost-Christmas, dear reader! It's that time of year again, so I figured I'd celebrate with an FMAB Christmas parody. It's no masterpiece but I wanted to do it for a quick write and for funsies. FMAB and all of its characters belong to Hiromu Arakawa. The poems is my own play on Clement Clarke Moore's "The Night Before Christmas"; it's obvious if you're an English speaking North American, but I state this for any others who don't recognize it and to give the poet proper credit. If it starts a little slow for anyone's taste, I apologize. All of the really big shenanigans happen later once everyone is sauced and the homunculi enter the picture. This is just a build up chapter, but I promise there's still plenty of scathing sarcasm and hilarious situations to begin the story. Anyhow, before you start this story, I advise you look at my warning list.

**WARNING:** I have an extremely crass, inappropriate, and appalling sense of humor. If you are hypersensitive to harsh humor or are extremely PC, I do not advise this story for you. Think of modern British comedies, Trey Parker/ Matt Stone (South Park, Book of Mormon, etc.), and other comedies full of brash puns, and you will sum up my sense of humor. If you are below the age 16, please quit ignoring the M-rating and go read something age appropriate. I am an extremely big fan of FMAB/ FMA, and it's one of my favorite series, anime or television. However, I'm also a major fan of parodying shows, and I'm not about goofy, fluffy humor at all. Therefore, I say this the kindest way possible: I will bastardize this story, and it will be hilarious.

* * *

_It was the night before Christmas, and all through Amestris_

_Not a creature was stirring, except party guests for this Christmas._

_The Elric Brothers trudged onward through Central, the city._

_Whilst the younger brother glowed, the oldest glowered in self pity._

_Tonight was the night for Ole' Colonel's grand gathering,_

_A festival filled with debauchery, fueled by booze a-smathering._

_Through snow and harsh winds, they arrived at tavern's door_

_One excited for a party, the other dreading what the night had in store._

* * *

"This is so stupid," mumbled Edward as he rapped on the door.

"Aw, c'mon Brother! It's Christmas Eve, the most magical time of year! There's snow on the ground, children laughing, people singing, a feeling of merriment for all to share! Don't tell me you're not in the mood for a good ole' fashion Christmas get-together."

"Al?" Edward asked, shivering in the frosty evening.

"Yes?"

"Shut the fuck up."

"Could you stop being a Scrooge for at least one day out of the year?!" Al threw his large metal hands into the air. "You're going to kill Christmas Eve for everyone."

"Scrooge? Please. Scrooge won't even begin to describe me after a night of dealing with Mustang and whatever craptastic festivities he has planned!"

"Can you at least try to put a smile on for the rest of us?"

"_Wah wah wah wah wah_. That's all I ever hear out of your mouth, Al!"

"I don't even have a mouth!"

"For good fucking measure. If I could use alchemy to shut your soul up_ however the fuck that'd work_ I'd be a real hero."

"Maybe we could consult the stack of alchemy books if you didn't need them as a stepladder for the sink!"

"I'd say low blow but you have to have testicles to get the joke!"

The large wooden door flew open before Al could reply. Both brothers could do nothing but gawk at the individual in the doorway, unable to process what they were looking at. Colonel Mustang stood before them, dressed in a hideous sweater depicting a burning yule log. He smirked at his subordinates, gesturing inside.

"... You were right. Fuck this," said Al.

"Won't you please come in, dear guests," he said, sarcasm dripping from his deep voice. Alphonse hesitated but entered the building but Edward just stood, giving Mustang a look of sheer mistrust. "What's up with you, Fullmetal? Not feeling the Christmas Spirit yet?"

"Oh, I'm feeling something. Not Christmas Spirit, but something," muttered Ed, acceding to the invitation and crossing through the door.

"Don't feel too bad. I'm bound to give everyone an awkward boner sooner or later," Mustang stated smoothly and winked.

"Yeeeep, we're done. We're done. Al, we're going home," Edward shot, striding out the open door and making pedophile accusations under his breath.

"Do you want your dismissal note tonight? If you wait until tomorrow morning, I could wrap it up and put it under the Christmas tree. No promises there won't be vomit stains on the note... or your tree."

"You can't fire me for not attending your stupid party! Furor wouldn't allow it!"

"A little liquor and a back rub will go a long ways, Fullmetal. Jot that one down for when you decide to pork Blondiebell."

"WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL?!"

"Don't lie to me, Elric. Lube up that engine and I bet you could get it roaring. If you don't get around to it though, I am more than ready to play HANDYman..." Mustang gave a devilish smile.

"Nicholas-fucking-Flamel, Colonel. She's sixteen!"

"Say, what IS the legal age of consent in this country, anyway? We're kinda old-world, so I'd say if the red river can run, I'm good to boat those currents. Or wait... do we even have an age of consent?" Mustang pondered, scratching his chin. "Questions, questions."

With a heavy sigh and a face palm, Edward interjected, "Look, I'll stay on two conditions: One, I'm still employed by The State tomorrow morning, and two, YOU DO NOT RAMROD MY CHILDHOOD FRIEND. Ok?"

"We're gold on the first one but I can't make any promises on numero dos. When I'm liquored up, El Diablo Calor does what El Diablo Calor wants."

"Fine, fine... wait, you call yourself El Diablo Color?"

"I'd like to think of it as an extension of myself_"

"For God's sake Colonel, the last conversation I'd like to have is about what you call your dong."

Edward glanced around to distract himself from the taste of vomit in his mouth. He recognized the building as Madam Christmas's tavern; how ironic. The place was covered with decorations, as if Christmas had caught Salmonella and excreted its content everywhere. Presents were nestled under a tree decorated with empty alcohol bottles, "bar maids" went to and fro in skimpy red outfits, and a stocking for each soldier from Mustang's squadron was hung over a roaring fireplace.

Edward's eyes turned to the fully stocked bar on the other end of the room. _Note to self: Change into something flame-proof once Mustang starts drinking_.

"Now what?" Ed grumbled.

"For starters, take your coat off. If you don't, in ten minutes time, you'll feel like a middle-aged woman in menopause."

Edward shed his coat and hung it on a rack by the door, revealing a lumpy red sweater that bore the same insignia as his jacket.

"Where'd you get that gold nugget from?" Mustang sneered.

"Oh, well_" Al started, but Edward cut him off.

"GRAN! Gran made it as a joke one year, so I figured this was the perfect occasion for it."

"I'm touched," muttered the older man, ignoring the boy's nervous neck-rubbing.

"So where the hell is everyone any_" Suddenly, the door flew open, nailing Edward directly in the face. Fuery, Breda, Falman, and Havoc burst through the opening, all breathing heavily from exertion.

"I won!" Falman cried.

"No way, old man. It was totally me!" Breda puffed out his chest and point a thumb at himself.

"What do you think?!" Fuery exclaimed at their superior.

"I think," Mustang mumbled, scratching under his chin, "that Havoc's cigarette tip crossed through before anyone , so he wins. For a change, it looks as if smoking can win you something besides lung cancer."

"Fuck yah!" Havoc pumped his fist and eyed the servers. "Anyone want to _celebrate_ with me?"

The blonde tomcat winked, and the women giggled, whispering to each other. The three other soldiers glowered, their expression etched with envy. Rolling his eyes, Mustang barked, "For fuck's sake, everyone go to the bar. Ladies, serve these assholes some consolation shots. Oh, and stay away from Havoc. He's _ridden_ more _horses_ than The State Calvary."

"C'mon! You're killing my game, Colonel! Who else is to going to go _merry-making_ withme? Riza?" Cigarette clamped between his teeth, Havoc clutched his sides and bellowed with laughter. The rest of the room, including Mustang, joined the hysterical fit until a voice interrupted their guffaws.

"Would that be my Christmas present, Havoc?" The entire room fell dead silent as Riza strode through with a package tucked under her arm. She raised an eyebrow at Havoc, her expression uncertain and unreadable. Nobody even dared to snicker at her ridiculous get-up, a sweater covered in stuck-on candy canes, jingle bells, and package ribbons. Riza swaggered up to Havoc, only several inches from his face, and plucked the cigarette out of his mouth.

"Uhh..." was the only words Havoc could manage, sweat pouring down his face.

"Because if I let you stuff my stocking, all I'll get this year is chlamydia." She fell into a fit of laughter and popped the cigarette back into the man's mouth. The rest of the room burst into raucous bellows once more; except Havoc, who merely stared at Riza as if she had castrated him.

"I'll be damned! Cracking jokes, and you're not even drunk yet, Lieutenant!" Mustang cried, slapping her on the back. "Let's fix that. Ladies, a shot for Lieutenant Hawkeye here!"

As the others gathered at the bar, Mustang walked back and closed the door. Much to his surprise, Edward stood behind it, nose spurting blood and eye twitching. "Oh shit! You ok, Fullmetal?"

"Brother!" Al loped over to join the older Elric and Colonel Mustang.

Finally, after a minute or two, Edward slowly turned his head to Al. "It'd be fun, my brother said. You'll have the time of your life, he said. NOTHING TOTALLY UNPLEASANT OR FUCKED WILL HAPPEN AT A MUSTANG-PARTY, HE SAID!"

"Don't be so sour, Elric. C'mon, let's get you some ice; we can make you a compress and something on the rocks."

"OHHHHHHHHH No. Absolutely, positively not! I'd rather transmute myself a red hot poker iron and sodomize myself with it than get drunk at this party! It sounds much better than waking up stark naked and tied to Major Armstrong's bed, gagged with mistletoe and a big red bow tied to my ball sack!"

"Jeez, Fullmetal. Why must you assume I'm always out to set you up for pain and suffering?" Mustang chuckled as he grabbed some ice and a rag at the bar.

"Let's see." Edward put his fingers up and began to count. "There was that time at the summer barbecue with the firecracker and my crotch, the time you sent me a stripper-gram for my birthday while I was staying at Granny Pinako's house, that time you gave me sex education lesson when I was twelve and told me I had to transmute boners away, that time you snuck a pack of condoms with a winky-face note into my birthday present for Winry, that time you_"

"WHOA WHOA WHOA! I get it! I've played my share of pranks, but you make me out to be some major asshole!"

"A Colonel Asshole, to be more precise," muttered Edward, walking to the bar to retrieve the cloth full of ice.

"Hmmmmmm?"

"NOTHING!" Edward yelled, grabbing the cold bundle from the dark-haired man's hand and pressing it to his nose.

"You really shouldn't take these things so personally," chided Al. "Learn to laugh with them, and they won't want to prank you anymore.

"_You really shouldn't take these things so personally_," Edward mimicked back. He glared at the wall, stewing as he cooled the injury.

"Merry Christmas Eve, you sons of bitches!" The next guest to enter the tavern was Maes Hughes, followed by his wife, who gave him a disapproving swat.

"Language, Maes!"

"Oh, sorry! You sons of guns..." he said softly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Maes! Good to see you and the missus!" Mustang greeted them and lead the couple to the bar. "Ladies, drinks for the boring married people!"

"Boring indeed. We can't drink too much or be gone very long. We left Elicia with a babysitter; some nice retired fellow from the military," replied Gracia.

"Shoot! You could have brought her along and let the girls watch her!" The Colonel gestured to the scantily clad barmaids.

Both Hughes stared at him for a minute, silence overtaking the trio. Finally, Maes replied, "Roy... those are prostitutes."

"Yah?"

"They have paid sex for a living."

"I know."

"They're all drunk or doped up on something 80% of the time."

"Mhmm."

"Roy?"

"Yes Hughes, my ole' pal?"

"Don't ever reproduce."

Before the conversation could be continued, a jolt of cold air distracted them as more party-goers arrived.

"I hope we're not too late everyone! It's quite the train ride from Resembool but we made it," cried a familiar voice. Edward froze, the ice-filled rag still pressed to his nose. Could it be? How?! Mustang wouldn't have... would he? That bastard! There's no way...

Edward turned around to see Winry and Pinako wiping their feet off at the door, both clad in ugly sweaters and towing presents like the other invitees. He was in too much of a state of shock to notice a fresh gush of blood slide past the rag and down his face.

Glancing at Edward's sweater and then back at the blonde girl, Al mumbled, "I... I think I'm going to go get some fresh air."

"BUT_ BUT YOU DON'T EVEN BREATH!" Edward tried to argue. However, Alphonse was already up and on his way to the door.

"Yesssss. Tits..." Roy whispered as he sat down at the bar.

As Al approached the door, his brother watched Winry give him a hug and an excited greeting. However, the suit of armor was out the door the moment she let go, leaving his brother to a fresh-brewing disaster. Winry turned and spotted Ed, her face lighting up immediately. She raced over and swooped her childhood friend up in a hug before Edward had time to hide the front of his sweater. "MERRY CHRISTMAS EVE, ED! I know it's not exactly your favorite day of the year but I'm still happy to_ hey... why is your nose bleeding?"

"Uhhh?" Edward touched his face and gazed at the fresh traces of blood on his fingers.

"BONER NOSEBLEED!" Mustang shouted into his hands like a mega-phone. "ELRIC'S GOT A BONER NOSEBLEED!"

"Quit your shit, Colonel!" Yelled Edward, trying to staunch the trailing red fluid.

"Very funny_" Winry paused, her eyes glued to Ed's sweater. With quivering lips she asked, "Colonel?"

"Yes, Ms. Rockbell?"

"When you called on the telephone, you did say this was an UGLY SWEATER party, correct?"

"Yep. Sure did," replied Mustang. He proceeded to attack a mixed whiskey drink, pretending not to listen as the girl turned her attention to the younger alchemist.

"Ed... if this is an ugly sweater party, why are you wearing the sweater I made you for Christmas this year?"

Winry stared at Edward with doeful eyes, tears beginning to brim at their outer creases. Meanwhile, the words caught Mustang mid-drink, causing him to choke on the booze and spew it everywhere.

Pounding his chest and coughing, Colonel interjected, "Holy shit! Wheeeeeeeeeew. Didn't see that coming."

"Well, uh, Winry. I, uhhhhh..." Edward searched for an excuse, panic filling his chest. "Everything else I have with me is dirty, and this was the only thing I had left that was clean!"

He combed the back of his golden braid, hoping she would buy his lie.

"Ed, I packed your suitcase two days ago, and it had a weeks worth of clothes."

"Oh well... fuck." The two sat for a second in awkward silence before Winry turned to walk away, fuming with every step. "Winry, wait!"

"Fuck off, Ed! You know, you're such a dick sometimes," yelled Winry as she galloped off to the bathroom.

"Oooo, shots fired, eh Fullmetal? I thought you said Gran made it as a joke?" Mustang inquired, swallowing what remained of his drink.

Granny Pinako, who had just grabbed herself some bourbon at the bar, turned to Edward. "Me?! Make a sweater?! Ha! You're a pretty piss-poor liar, Edward Elric. Looks like you're going to have to learn that the hard way."

"I didn't know your girlfriend could knit," said Mustang, downing another alcoholic beverage.

"HOLY SHIT, SHE'S NOT MY GIRLFRIEND!"

"Whoa, calm down. Have a drink or something!"

"YOU SEE! THIS IS WHY I LIE TO YOU GUYS ABOUT THINGS LIKE THIS! CAN I RECEIVE SOMETHING FROM A GIRL AND NOT BE ACCUSED OF BEING IN A ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIP WITH HER?!" Ed flailed his arms, and blood began to spurt heavily from his nose.

"Oh. I just thought you lied because we'd all think you were a giant asshole for wearing your girlfriend's homemade present to an ugly sweater party," said Mustang nonchalantly.

Edward stared at the wall, anger mounting behind his increasing nosebleed. After five minutes, he finally pounded his fist on the bar and cried, "ALCHEMY-ON-A- DICK, FUCK IT! I'LL TAKE A WHOLE BOTTLE OF VODKA! IF I GET A MIXER, I'M GOING TO GIVE SOMEONE AN ENEMA WITH IT!"

If he was going to tolerate everyone and get through this night, he was going to need to be partially incapacitated.

* * *

"Firs', I thought we could play dress-up, an' maybwe do pwetty princess makeovers an' braid our hair an'..." Elicia babbled on, but her babysitter was lost to his own thoughts.

_My God, what did I get myself into?_ _It's been twenty minutes and I'd rather drink my own aneurysm than continue on with this. When does she ever shut the fuck up and breath? Next time I think out a vengeance plan, I should just roast someone or make them eat their Grandma's ashes or something. If we'd used this tactic back in Ishval, even I would have opposed it._

"Mr. Kimbwee, are you listening'?" Elicia growled, putting her hands on her hips. Kimblee looked down at the girl, trying to fight back a venomous glare.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he said, his voice laden with false honey. "What do YOU want Me to DO?"

"Maybwe, we coul' watch Fwozen with our DVD pwayer!" The little girl dragged him to the living room. She grabbed a silver disk sitting on one of the lamp stands and popped it into a strange, flat machine. Suddenly, an image popped onto the machine and began to move. Elicia then grabbed Kimblee's hand and pulled him to the couch, bobbing with anticipation.

_What the actual fuck? Does this even exist in our universe? This must be the work of another crappy fan fiction writer. Wait... oh fuck. I'm breaking fourth wall again. Play it cool, Kimblee. Don't let them know you know they're watching. Ok, just sit down and watch whatever the fuck this little girl is showing you, and everything will be alright. Everything will be alright..._

Kimblee knew this was going to be a very long night.


	2. Chapter 2: Sex, Drugs, and Magic Conch

**Please Read First:** Hello again dear reader! Good to see you again. I don't have much to say this time except that this next chapter is filled with WAY more laughs than the last. Once again, if you're younger than sixteen, GTFO. Seriously. Enjoy and try not to choke on your eggnog. In fact, just refrain from drinking things while reading this.

"Why have we never talked him out of this?" Pride sighed, glancing down at his elf outfit. Somehow, he felt that wearing jingle bells and green tights would ruin the horror of tearing the entrails out of a human being with his demonic shadow powers.

"Awwwww, don't be a kill-joy! You guys are just thinking about this all wrong. This season is full of lots of things. Like the joy of getting!" Greed popped the collar of his reindeer-skin suit.

"Don't Greed mean the joy of giving?" Gluttony asked, shoving his face into another plate of sugar cookies.

"I think he means the joy of fucking us over with re-gifts," muttered Envy. Greed shrugged and gave a toothy smile.

"Did I miss anything? If so, excellent," Lust called, appearing to the rest of her comrades in nothing but a wreath and Christmas tree bulb stick-ons.

"No, but we're definitely not missing anything of you," murmured Envy, turning green with nausea for a change.

Lust rolled her eyes. "I'm the spirit of carnal desire and wanton fuckery. What do you expect, my Sunday school best?"

"Say, you would make an awful good Catholic school girl," Greed added with a wink. "You've been pretty naughty. Can I punish you by slapping you with my ruler?"

"Holy shit, get a room before I pull out my philosopher's stone to end the misery!" Envy growled, massaging his temples. "I miss the days when we celebrated things by annihilating an entire culture or murdering puppies."

"Or at least with lots of drinking and senseless debauchery," Lust whined. "My favorite memory was when we all got royally fucked-up on Arbor Day, and I convinced Envy to shove a case-worth of recycled bottles up his_"

"WE DON'T TALK ABOUT THAT OR THE 12 HOUR VISIT TO THE EMERGENCY ROOM!"

"Yuh know..." Greed murmured in a low voice, huddling all of the homunculi into a circle. "A little birdie told me that a certain state alchemist is having a little get together at a tavern up in Central. Maybe we can pay it a visit for a bit, eh?"

"We can't just disappear! If none of us stick around for the party, Father is going to be pretty pissed," said Pride. "What do we do to get away from here?"

"That is a good question. How about we... consult the magic conch?" Wrath said, pulling the purple object from beneath his ugly sweater.

"HOLY-DONKEY-RAPING-ORPHANS, WRATH, HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO THREATEN TO GOUGE YOUR EYE OUT WITH A BUTTER KNIFE BEFORE YOU'LL QUIT MAKING SPONGEBOB REFERENCES?!" Envy screamed.

Wrath raised his hand slowly. "Envy?"

"What, Wrath?" Envy said through gritted teeth.

"Is... mayonnaise an instrument?"

"I SWEAR TO FATHER THAT I WILL SHOVE THAT THNG SO FAR UP YOUR ASS, THE ONLY THING YOU'LL BE ABLE TO SHIT FOR TWO WEEKS IS AMBIGUOUS ADVICE!"

"What do you swear on my name for, my child?" Father's voice echoed from within a yawn of darkness. All of the homunculi turned their attention to the sound, hoping he hadn't caught their conversation. And suddenly, he stirred within the blackness. The white of his silhouette glowed like an insidious wraith as he emerged from the dark. So great and terrible he was, **clad in a pink sweater with fluffy holiday kittens over his usual** **white robe.**

"Father... what THE FUCK are you wearing?" Pride's eyes were huge as he watched Father settle into his chair.

"This," Father said, looking Pride dead in the eyes, "is my party shirt."

"But... but kittens." Lust stared at him in disbelief.

"Yes, Lust," the mighty homunculus mused as stroked his beard, his manners suggesting that he was entirely serious. "Maniacal kittens of darkness and holiday cheer."

"Resist the urge to pull your stone, resist the urge to pull your stone," Envy chanted quietly, rocking back and forth with his arms wrapped around his knees.

Father looked at Envy, not even noticing his nervous breakdown. "Envy, my child, I see that Lust got you the sweater I selected. It looks positively delightful on you. I hope you don't mind my pun by choosing a Grinch sweater for your Christmas outfit; you know, what with you being green with envy and all."

Envy looked at him, his memories echoing back to an hour earlier. _GET THAT THING THE HELL AWAY FROM ME BEFORE I INVERT YOUR HEAD SO FAR DOWN YOUR THROAT THAT IT LINES UP WITH YOUR ASSHOLE! I WILL SHREAD YOUR FACE OFF AND WEAR IT AS A G-STRING BEFORE I SO MUCH AS TOUCH THAT MONSTROSITY WITH A TWELVE FOOT POLE!_

_"_Alright, let us begin this celebration with the mortal tradition of gift-giving. I must warn, however, I will be sorely disappointed if one of you has not gotten me that new Ke$ha album."

Envy grabbed his wrist before it could plunge into his own chest. When did this night end?

* * *

It had only been an hour into the party, and the tavern was almost entirely filled. Everyone laughed and tossed down their drinks like an African tribe going at a kiddie pool full of clean water. Alphonse and Scar were the only souls in the bar who did not imbibe, the former keeping an eye on his brother and the latter pouting in a corner of the bar that Mustang had dedicated to Chanakuh specifically for him.

Earlier:

_"Here yah go! I went the whole nine-yards to be PC just for you, buddy! I got a menorah, some latkas... oh, and I even got you a yamakah!" Mustang had squealed, placing the small hat onto Scar's head._

_Scar had face palmed and given him a look of utter contempt, handing back the yamakah. "You fuckwit, I'm not Jewish!"_

_"... Wait, what? They're not the same thing?!" Mustang had exclaimed, completely flabbergasted._

_"Yes! They're not the same thing!"_

_"Well, fuck me. They just seem so similar. So wait... you have one God, right?"_

_"Indeed."_

_"You oppose the use of anything that mimics the power of your God?"_

_"Yes."_

_"You're a rich culture with distinct physical traits and traditions, correct?"_

_"It is true."_

_"You've been hounded, pillaged, and raped by other races throughout the centuries and were nearly brought to an abrupt extinction by a gruesome holocaust waged on the whim of a power-hungry germanic culture with a god-complex... or did I miss the mark on that one?"_

_"... give me the fucking yamakah."_

Scar now sulked, refusing to make eye contact with anyone as he fingered at a dreidel.

Meanwhile, Al tried to reason his sibling out of alcohol poisoning. "Brother, I really wish you would slow down a bit. I do believe you said drinking at this party would be a bad idea, and I'm beginning to agree..."

"Are you shitting me?! This is the best fucking idea I've had in awhile! If I can polish off this bottle of Yager, I might be able to make my toes go numb!" He threw back his head and drained the bottle, wiping his mouth.

"Fullmetal, are you finally in the spirit?!" Mustang cried as he walked up behind Edward and gave him a hearty slap on the back.

"I'd say more the spirit is in me," Edward replied, grinning slyly. They both laughed and took a shot.

"ROY! ER, I MEAN COLONEL!" Riza cried, sliding through the crowd to his side. "Breda forgot the beer bong, so what do we use as the substitute?"

Mustang scratched his chin for a moment, and suddenly, his eyes lit up. "HAWKEYE, DO YOU OR DO YOU NOT ALWAYS KEEP A RIFLE IN THE BACK OF YOUR CAR?!"

"Holy shit, sir! That's genius! Let me go grab it, and I'll be right back!"

Riza disappeared through the mass of bodies, and Roy turned to Ed. Although he was not quite drunk, there was still a twinkle of intoxication in his eyes as he elbowed the younger alchemist. "Y'know, Lieutenant Colonel is pretty fond of guns. I might just see if she'd like me to lend a little 'fire-power' tonight... if you get my drift."

"Oh alchemy, Colonel. That was the shittiest pun I've ever heard."

"What? You don't think she'll 'cock' my 'gun'?"

"Lame!"

"They call her Hawkeye because she knows how to shoot a full load right into the target."

"That was... actually pretty good," Ed said, shaking his head in approval. "But wait... you two haven't done IT already?"

"Done what?"

"Oh c'mon, Mustang. You know EXACTLY what I'm talking about."

"Actually, no. What the fuck are you talking about, Elric?"

"IT," a flustered Ed replied, his face turning red. "IT! That thing adults do!"

Mustang stared at him blankly.

"FOR ALCHEMY'S SAKE COLONEL, SEX! THE HORIZONTAL HOKEY POKEY! RUBBING BOOTS! POWDERING YOUR NOSE VERSION 2.0! FU-CKING."

"Wait... that's what we've been talking about all along?"

Ed gave the man a look of sheer bewilderment. "Isn't that what you've been talking about?"

"Noooooo. I literally meant the gun I bought her for Christmas. But you know... now that I think about it, that's a great idea! Lieutenant Colonel looks like one of those classy ladies from a rom-com movie who hasn't gotten laid in ages and probably cries while touching herself and reading Nicholas Sparks novels. She's gotta be desperate!"

Colonel Mustangs face lit up as he dreamed about a possible drunken encounter that would occur later that night. Ed rolled his eyes. By chance, he looked over Mustang's shoulder, only to see Winry giving him a vicious death glare. She chugged from a straight bottle of Everclear, never once taking her eyes from his.

"I'm so fucked," Edward mumbled, putting his face down on the bar counter. Al patted him on the back and sighed.

"I told you the sweater was a bad idea."

"YAH YAH YAH! You tell me a lot of things, Al! You're like my own personal magical-fucking-conch, except your advice is logical and your point clear, even though I always choose to ignore you and the series seems to favor my impulsiveness over your sound reasoning skills."

"Well, that escalated quickly," Al replied.

"For fuck's sake, I'll take another bottle of rum," Ed yelled to one of the half-naked prostitute servers.

Colonel Mustang snapped out of his reverie and glanced over his shoulder at the angry blonde. "Oooooo. Look's like she's still got sand in her vagina over the whole sweater thing, eh Fullmetal? Maybe you should give her a firm handshake... if you get my drift."

Edward stared at him, and the older man added, "Oh, I actually do mean sex this time!"

Suddenly, there was a loud clatter, and the two alchemists as well as the rest of the bar turned to see what had happened. The door lay on the ground as snow and cold wind blew into the room. None other than Major and General Armstrong entered the room. Mustang pushed through to the front of the bar, exclaiming,

"Shit-on-my-dick, Olivier, you couldn't just open the door like a normal fucking person?!"

"An Armstrong never enters a party unless it's dramatic and instills shock or utter surprise!" Major Armstrong bellowed, posing like Johnny Bravo.

"That's nice but before you go, I suggest you leave the repair money in my stocking."

Olivier snarled, "Are you joking?! You're a motherfucking-alchemist for fuck's sake! Can't you use your wizard powers or some shit to fix the damn door?"

"I may be an alchemist but I'm also a difficult asshole with a superiority complex and sociopathic tendencies that encroach on my ability to have a decent relationship with other human beings," Mustang stated proudly, pointing a thumb at himself.

From the back of the bar, Al shouted, "Once again, that escalated quickly."

Before anyone could reply, there was the sound of gunshots and cries of pain. Riza burst past the two Amrstrongs, panting heavily and the barrel of a rifle clutched in her hand. "Got it, sir! I may or may not have accidentally left the gun loaded earlier and shot a civilian while dismantling it, but we definitely have something to use as a beer bong now!"

The entire bar cheered. A moment later, Madam Christmas parted the curtain from the back room and called, "I got rounds of spiked eggnog for everyone! Takers?"

Once again, there was a chorus of cheers.

Not to be outdone, Major Amrstrong ripped off his shirt to expose his sparkling chest, and cried "ANYBODY WANT BODY SHOTS?!"

The entire bar remained silent, except for Fuery, who screamed, "AWWWW YEAHHHhh... I mean, ew! No... oh, gross... that's... gay."

* * *

_How... how can it be? All these years, I've felt empty. Meaningless. But one moment... one single moment, and I see myself so clearly. I feel so whole and complete... so very liberated_

Kimblee sat, watching cross-legged on the couch as Elsa, the snow queen, trilled the words of "Let It Go." His and Elicia's eyes both sparkled with delight as the woman on the screen shot ice out of her hands and made a castle. As she transformed her clothes into a dazzling gown, Kimblee couldn't help but feel his heart soar with her. A tear formed in his eye, and his throat caught to prevent himself from sobbing.

"Elicia!" A voice called, the door slamming in the other room. Kimblee and Elicia turned their heads, the little girl leaping up to race to her parents. When Kimblee turned his head back to the tv, his stomach dropped. It was gone. Vanished. Disappeared into thin air.

"Looks like everything turned out very nice!" Mrs. Hughes commented as she entered the room. "We were afraid she'd be a handful."

Kimblee stared at her in disbelief. "Where... where did the thing_ the tv go?"

He pointed to the empty space, and the woman gave him a strange look. "The WHAT?"

Kimblee shook his head and sighed. "Never mind, never mind. It's... nothing."

"Okaaaaay. Well, here's your money for the trouble. We really appreciated it." As she handed him the money, she gazed at him intently. "Say... are you? You couldn't be could you?! You look exactly like someone famous!"

Kimblee's heart leaped. _Say Queen Elsa. Please say Queen Elsa!_

_"_Who?" He asked casually.

"Hmmmm... wait! I've got it! You're Fabio, aren't you?!"

Kimblee's face fell. He accepted the money and walked to the door. Before he departed however, he murmured, "No, madam. I'm no one."

With that, he departed into the snowy night.

* * *

"Aaaaaaaand it's... the World's Best Homunculus coffee mug I gave Greed last year," Pride muttered, not even hiding the bitterness in his voice.

"It's the gift that just keeps on giving, eh?" Greed winked and formed douche-pistols with his fingers.

"And next," Father boomed, "Envy."

Lust handed him the wrapped box and smiled. Envy gave her a leery look but tore into the present. He stared at it for a moment before exclaiming, "Father dammit, Lust! Must you give me a vibrator EVERY FUCKING YEAR?!"

"Come to think of it, the only gifts she ever gives anyone are sex toys," Pride commented.

"Like I said, spirit of carnal desire and wanton fuckery. Yada-yada. Why can't you all be like Gluttony? He never complains about it!"

"Maybe because he's too busy eating them?" Envy replied, gesturing to Gluttony as he devoured a string of anal beads. "My point exactly."

"Oh whatever," Lust said, tossing her hair.

Looking at the beads, Envy let his mind wander from the party. He pondered on how many people suffered anal implosions and bleeding from them. He chuckled. It must be an absolute mess, like having Ebola. Suddenly, a light went off in his head. He knew exactly how to get them all out of this ordeal.

"OH FATHER! MY ASS! IT'S BLEEDING!" Envy screeched, clutching at his butt. "I THINK I'VE CONTRACTED EBOLA! I HAVE TO GET TO A HOSPITAL IMMEDIATELY!" As Envy danced around, he gave everyone hinting looks. The other homunculi picked up on the cue, excepting Gluttony and Sloth, the latter which was fast asleep in the corner.

"MY ASS IS ALSO BLEEDING!" Greed cried.

"ME TOO!" Lust followed.

"OH GOODNESS, I HOPE I DON'T RUIN MY KNICKERS!" Pride cried, grabbing at his pants.

"WE'VE GOT TO GET TO THE HOSPITAL! PRONTO!"

"We're so sorry," Envy said, touching Father's shoulder as he continued to clutch his butt. "It looks like we're going to have to cut the party short."

Father gave him a solemn look, wringing the Hannah Montana shirt Envy had given him this year. "Are you absolutely sure?"

"Well, we'd hate to lea_ OH SHIT, I THINK A PINT JUST GUSHED OUT!" SORRY FATHER, GOTTA RUN!" The four competent homunculi rushed out of the room, leaving their disappointed Father to himself.

* * *

It had been almost two hours since the door incident, and the party was in full tilt. Literally. The guests went to-and-fro, some so hammered that they couldn't even crawl straight. Madam Christmas continued throwing out spiked eggnog like there was no tomorrow and the free bar seemed to have no end.

Winry pounded down another rum-and-coke, ranting away to Hawkeye. "An' then, I was like 'is that the sweater I made you for Christmas this year?'"

"What nerve! These stupid boys never seem to get it!" The older woman replied, sipping her beer and shaking her head.

"Riza, it's your turn on the beer bong again!" Falman called.

Riza drained her beer and looked at Winry. "Hold that thought."

She got out of her seat and accepted the barrel of the gun from Breda, who stood on the bar with a massive funnel and pack of Budweiser at hand. Riza took the funnel into her mouth and nodded. The man began to pour can after can into the funnel until he put almost ten cans-worth into it. The whole bar had erupted into "CHUG CHUG CHUG CHUG", cheering her on as she swallowed the last drop of the tenth can before backing out.

Breda took the barrel out of her hands, and she wiped her mouth before emitting a large belch. Pounding her chest, she said, "Anyway, as I was saying, boys never really get what women want. Mustang, for instance, was convinced I was lesbian for almost ten years until he found my extensive collection of Mark Wahlberg pornography a few years ago. You have to tell them exactly what you want or how you feel because they don't seem to understand unless you break everything down to a preschool level. I just hope you don't take it too hard, though. I'd hate to see you and Edward break-up over this."

Winry choked on her drink. "What the hell are you talking about?!"

"What? Aren't you guys a thing?"

"NO! ABSOLUTELY NOT! NEVER IN A MILLION YEARS!"

"Well... okay. So you like him?"

"I'd ride him all night and pull that luscious gold mane like an Indian on a wild horse. I have a spare cut of his hair hidden in my diary, and when I'm feely really frisky, I sniff it while_"

"TMI, sweetheart! Well, we know you like him, but we also know he's an idiot. Ever thought about making him jealous?"

Winry sighed. "No. If I went out with another man, he'd probably be too busy searching for the Philosopher's Stone or decent barber to notice."

"Try an older man! It seems to work better if he's way older and extremely attractive. He'll probably be a douche which will make you feel disgusted with yourself and mildly violated, but I bet it'd do the trick."

Havoc, who had been rejected by more than one prostitute that night, caught the tail end of the conversation and burst in, "I volunteer as tribute!"

Riza looked from Havoc to Winry, and said, "Not him. Chlamydia. That stuff is damned hard to get rid of, which I learned the hard way after porking him in a bush at last year's summer barbecue."

The two women wrinkled their noses and walked away. Distraught, Havoc cried, "BUT I GOT IT TREATED! C'MOOOOOOON!"

"Looking for a romp, huh?" A voice purred. Havoc turned around to find that Granny Pinako had sat down next to him. Havoc was disgusted. She had to be twenty-years older than him, and her nether regions were probably almost in the nether world.

"No way. Uh uh. Absolutely not. For Alchemy's sake, you're someone's grandma!"

"So?" She winked and took a drink of her scotch, licking the rim of the glass as she got the last drop while looked him dead in the eyes. "More experience. I could perform depraved acts that all of these young floozies could only dream of doing. There are sex moves so archaic, they could be in a museum, and I know every single last one of them."

Havoc couldn't argue with that logic. However, he knew there was still one problem. "But... ok. I DO still have chlamydia. I mean I got it treated, but you know how it goes; one night of rubber-less rubbing and it's back with a vengeance."

Granny Pinako laughed. "Sonny, I have EVERY STD in the book besides HIV. I have for the last forty years. Do you think I care?"

"Well then..." Havoc smiled and gestured to the set of stairs that lead to the upper floor and the bathrooms. "The loo it is?"

"Ladies first," Granny Pinako retorted. Smiling, Havoc swaggered through the crowd with the elderly woman following behind. It was his lucky day.

* * *

Mustang stumbled through the crowd. He wasn't quite to the point of being obliviously smashed, but it was nearing its peak. As he looked through the crowd, he evaluated prime tail to get down and dirty with for the evening. The Colonel spied a cutie with a yellow jacket and long black ponytail with her back to him; target located.

He sauntered up to her and put his arm around the woman, whispering into her ear, "Hey there, baby. What's a girl like you doing in a place_ HOLY SHIT, WHAT THE FUCK!"

Mustang screamed as the woman faced him, and he realized it was actually Ling Yao. The Easterner smiled and chimed, "How sweet, Colonel. However, I must say you're not my type of man. I prefer fellows with long hair, a high voice... oh, and a vagina."

"You mean Fullmetal?" Mustang asked.

"Huh. That would make for an intriguing fan fiction, but I'm going to have to pass one that one."

"What the hell are you doing here, and how did you know about this anyway?! You weren't even invited!" Mustang was now highly irritated, arms crossed over his chest.

"Oh, you know. Just passing through and what not; figured I'd see what old friends were up to. Nothing at all to do with how I devised a means of intercepting your State Military's mail to monitor your country's political and international affairs as well as for watching for party invitations."

Mustang stared at him. "Did you at least use the door this time?"

"Actually, I crawled in through the chimney without lighting myself on fire to get into the spirit of your strange Western customs." The Xingenese man smiled.

"Ling."

"Yes, Colonel?"

"Get the fuck out."

"Awwwww. C'mon Colonel! It's been awhile, but I see you're still a bit sore about the time I served you guys our special lo mien dish."

"IT WAS DOG MEAT, LING! DOG MEAT!" Mustang screamed.

"Hey hey! Take it easy! One man's delicacy is another man's best friend. Isn't that they way of the world?"

"Ling, I'm going to give you to the count of three before I snap my finger and _"

"Alright! Fine. I'm leaving. I just wanted to bring you guys a Christmas present, but if you don't want some quality Xingese opium or a bag of cocaine I scored at one of my train stops, I guess I'll have to take them with me too..." Ling turned to leave, but Mustang grabbed him by the shoulder.

"Cocaine?"

Ling turned to face him. "Fine ground. White as the snow outside. What do you say, old pal?"

"I say welcome to Amestris, old friend."

"Good!" Ling gave another wide smile. "Now... where are all the bitches?"

* * *

Winry was into her eighth shot of Svetka; she'd lost count of how many other things she had drank. Pounding down another shot of the vodka, she looked over at Edward, who was half passed out against a shirtless Major Armstrong. The Major himself was out cold on the bar, drool slipping out from under his mustache.

Rolling her eyes, she took yet another shot. This taste of alcohol was stale on her tongue, and she felt sick. She kept going, however, until vomit began to spew out of her mouth.

"Fuck," she said, some of the vile liquid falling onto her sweater. Winry tried to get through the crowd, but she was so sloshed it was like using floatees in a tsunami. She finally managed to get to the stairs and shamelessly crawl up them. Reaching the bathroom, Winry tried to stand up and use the door for support, but the door opened and she fell forward. Looking up, she gazed at the sight before her: Granny Pinako shoving her tongue down Havoc's throat as they got hot and heavy. Although they were both still fully clothed and in the foreplay phase, the sight still managed to make Winry more nauseous than any of the alcohol.

"Winry!" Granny cried, untangling herself from the younger man. "It's not what it_ I was just_ well, I_"

"BLOUUUUUUUUGGGGHHHHHHHHH,"Winry screamed, hurling out a fresh new load of vomit onto the floor before she crawled out of the bathroom. Granny Pinako shrugged, looked at Havoc, and mauled his face in another french kiss.

Outside of the bathroom, Winry managed to pull herself up the wall to a standing position. She whirled around to find Colonel Mustang behind, who looked as equally surprised to see her as she was to see him.

"Whoah! Hey Winny_"

"Winry."

"Yeah. Well, hey Henry! How's it going?! I'm just up here hanging out. You know, not trying to find someplace to secretly snort cocaine or anything because that's totally illegal!"

"Mustang?" Winry looked at him for moment, and a light went off in her head. "How old are you?"

"Shit, sweetheart, I'm timeless," he said, giving her an impish smile and smoothing back his hair. "What about you?"

She gave him a seductive smile back and buttoned down her vomit-stained sweater to show her cleavage. "Oh, you know. OLD ENOUGH."

Without a second's hesitation, the two were fused together in a passionate, drunken kiss. Hands tangled in each others' hair, Mustang pinned her to the wall and smothered her mouth in his own. His hot breath trickled down her throat, causing the nape of her hair to raise and her heart to race. Suddenly, he pulled her back through a door adjacent to the bathroom; it was one of the rooms the prostitutes used for "business."

Mustang quickly shed his shirt and grinned at her through the dim light of a candle. He sat down onto the bed and pulled her into his lap "Hey, Winter, can I grab your breasts

"Sure."

The older man began to grope her, but got over-excited and ripped down the rest of the sweater to reveal her decent sized endowments wrapped in red lace.

His eyes grew wide. "Ooooooo. This one's got a little Christmas spirit. Roy likes."

Without another word, he went to town. Man, how he loved post-jail bait.

* * *

Edward stirred, drool trailing down his face. He looked down at Armstrong, who he had been sleeping on, before he looked around at the buzzing crowd. The party didn't look like it had let up one bit since he had passed out; in fact, it looked even bigger and wilder. How long had he been out anyway, and where was Alphonse?!

Rubbing his head, he gazed around drunkenly. Turning to his left, he almost fell out of his chair in surprise. None other than Ling Yao was seated next to him, slumped against the bar. The Easterner turned to look at Edward, his eyes glassed over and redder than a philosopher's stone.

"Hello there, Ed," said Ling, a stupid grin on his face.

"Uhhhhhh, hey Ling. When did you get here?"

"Half passed... noodles," he mumbled, his face going somewhat slack.

Edward shrugged. Ling high off of his ass on opium; what was new? "Ling, do you know where Mustang is?"

Ling sat for a second, thinking intently. "Mustang. Muuuuustang. Oh yeah! Mustang. He went upstairs to snort co_ I mean, snort rainbows_ er... fuck it, he's upstairs."

"Thanks Ling," Edward mumbled, stumbling off of the stool. He even felt drunker than he had before he had fallen asleep.

Pulling himself up the stairs, Edward tried the bathroom first. However, instead of Mustang, he found a sight so awful for words that he released a hailstorm of vomit onto the bathroom floor where there was another steaming fresh pile of vomit.

"Edward!" Granny Pinako said, trying the cover herself. Havoc looked around sheepishly for his pants, blushing a deep red. However, before either could get dressed or explain anything, Edward was out.

Heaving for air, Edward muttered, "Well, looks like I'm going to need another three bottles of rum and a bucket of tequila to erase that memory. Maybe some therapy for the repressed memories."

He decided to look into the next room. There was a lot of rustling and heavy breathing coming from the room. Definitely Mustang. Edward hesitated though; should he really interrupt his superior in this delicate and possibly humiliating situation?... Yes.

Edward threw open the door, revealing Mustang's bare muscular back as he got frisky with some bimbo. At least he still had his pants on and wasn't mid-coitus, unlike the last venture. Edward tasted a little bit of vomit in his mouth again.

"Hey Colonel, have you seen Alphon_" Edward said, but stopped mid-sentence. The Colonel had turned his head so that Edward could see that the woman, in question, was actually his Winry.

"Oh... hey Ed. Uhhhh. How's it going," the older man lilted. Winry pushed Mustang off, trying to cover her fancy lingerie with the remains of her sweater.

Ed stared at both of them, wide-eyed and unable to process words.

"I was just... er, helping Windy here fix here sweater. You know, valiant alchemist stuff_" Before Mustang could explain further, Edward's fist had cracked across his face.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH, I SPECIFICALLY TOLD YOU NOT TO COME ONTO MY FRIENDS! YOU PERVERT! YOU SICK, PEDOPHILIC BASTARD!"

Clutching his jaw, Mustang yelled, "I told you I couldn't promise that! Besides, we technically weren't have sex, so_"

Before he could finish, Edward was on top of him and raining down a flurry of punches. The Colonel, however, managed to roll Ed over and began to plaster the younger alchemist in the face. Ed pushed Mustang off and launched himself at him, knocking them both through the door. Not to be caught a second off guard, he pushed the older man against the rail and tried to choke him; the force was too much though, and they both plummeted to the middle of the party with a huge crashing sound. The entire tavern went silent, all eyes watching as Edward continued to pound Mustang's face.

"YOU ARE THE MOST MONUMENTAL ASSHOLE I HAVE EVER MET! MY FRIEND, MY CHILDHOOD FRIEND, YOU MASSIVE SACK OF HORSE DILDOS! AFTER THIS, HOW ABOUT I BANG LIEUTENANT HAWKEYE SO YOU CAN KNOW EXACTLY HOW IT FEELS TO SEE YOUR COWORKER'S BONER PRESSED ONTO SOMEONE WHO YOU PLAYED RING-AROUND-THE-ROSY WITH WHEN YOU WERE EIGHT!"

The Colonel got the upper hand and flipped Edward onto his back, plowing the angry boy repeatedly. "HOLY SHIT, YOU PISSY ELBOW-REST! ONE TIME! I DECIDE TO GET PAST SECOND BASE WITH YOUR FRIEND ONE TIME, AND YOU'RE APESHIT ALL OVER MY ASS! I TOLD YOU THAT IF YOU WANTED TO GO FOR IT TO GO FOR IT OR I WOULD! IT TOOK ME FIVE MINUTES TO GET WHERE YOU HAVEN'T EVEN NEARED WITH TWELVE YEARS! THAT IS BECAUSE YOU. ARE. A. MASSIVE. PUSSY!"

Everyone looked down at the fight and then up at Winry, who stood on the landing in shock, her shredded sweater failing to hide her red bra. With as drunk as they all were however, the fight lost its novelty quick, and the party raged. Mustang and Edward, however, continued to beat the ever-living shit out of each other in the middle of the tavern.

* * *

The homunculi observed as figures passed back and forth in front of the glowing windows, the party audible even a block down.

Lust grinned, not even noticing the cold air on her mostly-nude body. "Looks like a hoot."

"How're we going to get in unnoticed, though," Pride retorted, crossing his arms and frowning.

"Let me consult the_"

"WILL YOU GIVE IT A REST!" Envy screamed. Shaking his head, he kept his eyes on the tavern as he replied, "It's simple. We walk in. Everyone is so hammered, how will they even notice that a group artificially made humans with supernatural abilities and immortality just walked into their party?"

"Good point," Lust shot. "Drunk people tend to be ignorant of things like that."


End file.
